


You've Got the Love I Need To See Me Through

by dynamicsymmetry



Series: Pacify [23]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Blow Jobs, Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Incest Play, Mutual Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Roleplay, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamicsymmetry/pseuds/dynamicsymmetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days are still hard. Some days Beth slips into a gray fog, and has to fight her way out. But Daryl can remind her that she can still feel good. His little girl just had a bad dream. It's over now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm sorry, people who are internally begging me to quit it with the daddy kink and move on to other things. I promise - I _promise_ \- that the next installment will feature no daddy kink whatsoever. I just had to write this, and it is entirely Mollie/Schwoozie's fault because she's a horrible influence where this stuff is concerned, so you may blame her for it. 
> 
> Though yeah, this is multi-chapter. I want to take it to a couple of other self-contained places. Not sure when. 
> 
> Please be aware: This is taking the incest play a bit further than I have - I feel, anyway - and also playing up the innocent/underage aspect. So if you find that disturbing, you should stop here. I want to emphasize that these are _consenting adults who are really into what they're doing,_ and it's _roleplay._ Both are obvious, but yeah, saying it anyway. 
> 
> PS: if you're interested in my thoughts on daddy kink in this fandom and why it's both an interesting and a problematic thing, I devoted a segment to it in [part 1 of the Keep Singing podcast's special Bethyl Smut Week double-episode.](https://soundcloud.com/user1510691/episode-3-bethyl-smut-week-rides-again-pt-1) so there's that. 
> 
> Those of you who are still with me, hope you enjoy. ❤️

It's still the only thing she's done that was almost too much for him. That almost made him stop.

It didn't. Christ, it didn't, not at _all_. If anything it was yet another door opening onto a whole new world, an enormous place in which they could play together, and if it was completely fucked up and edging far further into total depravity than he thought they had ever gone… Maybe it was where they were always meant to be. It feels like it. He can believe it. It's not that hard.

He's never known how far this could go. He's never known where it might end. Neither has she. That's where faith comes in. Which she taught him.

She taught him all kinds of things.

Which makes this new little scenario they've cooked up together appropriate on so many different levels.

They do this. They have and they haven't, but since they began playing in this new world, pre-planning has become more important than it used to be. Not just what and how but _who_ and _when,_ who will be involved and why, what part of this ongoing plotline will be made use of, what these characters will want and know. How much they’ll push the boundaries.

Just how fucked up it'll get.

Slowly climbing the stairs to their room, low evening sun lying on the wall in long ruddy-orange stripes through the bars of the banister, he takes a few moments to reflect and thinks this might be a whole new level.

But he always takes from her. He gives, he makes her feel good, but in the end he always makes her do what he wants, his sweet little girl, and he always takes his pleasure from her, and he loves it. Loves her. It's wonderful. She's so wonderful.

They both like the idea of a change.

It's not even just that. What they do together has helped her in ways they've never discussed but are both keenly aware of: Before, she had frequent nightmares, frequent days where everything around her seemed darker, periods where she didn't sing and would barely talk, where whenever she passed the gate she would stop and stare at it, head slightly cocked, as if she was hearing something inaudible to everyone else. As if it was calling to her.

When he wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed hard enough to leave bruises, it almost stopped.

But only almost.

Some days she's still sad. Some days things are still difficult. She's distant. She doesn't meet his gaze easily and she doesn't say much to him. It tightens his heart like a fist because he can't fix it for her; he feels like he has to remind her of where she is and who she's become, remind her that she's alive and he loves her and even if she's not safe she's strong - so strong - and what he wants more than anything else in his life is to make her happy, until his life is over.

He wants to remind her that she can feel good.

For the last two days she's been down in that gray fog. But she hasn't been so far down that she can't be part of a plan to help her back out. So she's waiting and he climbs the stairs, and heat is pounding in every capillary as his breath comes shallow and rough, and sweat collects in the thick folds of his palms.

Never expected to like it this much. Would have been worried about it, once.

The house is silent. He's silent. At the top of the landing and down the short hallway, the door is shut. But as he takes slow, deliberate steps toward it, the silence is pressed inward by soft little whimpers, and the fist that his heart has become clenches even as his mouth floods wet and his cock throbs in his jeans.

She's playing. But she's also not. Her tears are always real.

It's only one of the reasons why he loves making her cry.

He stops just outside the door and closes his eyes, pulling deep rounds of air into his lungs. Outside, a dog barks and some kid somewhere screams laughter. Someone else calls down the street, words he can't make out. Sounds normal, that world outside, and it's a fucking lie. Nothing out there is _normal._ So really, neither of them is under any obligation to be normal either. That world is fucked up, and it's all bad. In here, they can be fucked up and it's good in every important way.

He turns the knob and quietly opens the door, and there she is.

Curled on her side under the covers, facing him with her hair half fallen over her face and almost red in the wide band of sun pouring over the bed and over her. Her trembling shoulder is exposed and he can see a lacy frill all pale blue, just the hint of a short puffy sleeve. Fresh wave of heat from the base of his skull to the base of his cock; he usually finds things like that for her, brings them to her and presents them as gifts, but this time she was the one who brought it back from the last run she went along on, left it laid out on the bed for him and shot him a wicked grin when he turned and stared at her standing there in the doorway.

There under the comforter, waiting for him. Knowing it's there on her is enough to make him ache against his zipper. He crosses the floor, still quiet on the carpet, and whatever noise his footfalls _are_ making are lost beneath her the low sounds of her weeping.

_Christ, girl._

She looks up when he sinks down onto the bed and half turns toward her, laying a careful hand on that lacy shoulder, and swipes at her tear-streaked cheeks and bites her lip. Her hair is gathered into cornsilk pigtails, a bit messy from the pillow and also by her intention, loose strands tickling the edges of her face.

He wanted her hair out of the way. Didn't want it obscuring any of whatever view he ends up having. But the effect is also… That was always meant to be part of it. No way is he going to lie about that.

He's so fucked up.

“Daddy?”

“Hey there, baby.” He reaches up and cups her cheek, smudges a thumb through the tracks of her tears. He's gentle - hand. Voice. He’s decided that everything here is going to be gentle. He loves being rough with her, being _cruel_ to her, but not this time. It's not what she needs. And this is always, in the end, about what she needs. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffles and drops her eyes, and it breaks his heart all over again how little of this part is truly affectation. God, under the act she's so sad, and that's unbearable. Even if it does nothing whatsoever to wilt his erection. “I don't feel good, Daddy.” Her lower lip quivers. “I had a bad dream.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” He shifts his hand up and smooths back her hair. “What was it about?”

She shakes her head. “I don't remember,” she whispers. “It was just… It scared me. It was real bad.”

“ _Girl_.”

Even more of a whisper than hers, and for a second the mask slips and it's _him_ and he's seeing _her,_ and it hurts. He loves her and she's alive and she _found_ him, and that's everything, but there are things he can't go back and change, things he can't make right and scars he’ll never heal, and the edge of his thumb brushes the little circular mark on her brow and he has to fight back a shudder. He won't break this fictional bubble open, he knows he can keep that level of control, but beneath this it’s _them,_ foundational, and that's always going to be true. So he slides an arm beneath her back and lifts her, pulls her against him and holds her and feels her breathing warm and damp into the hollow of his neck, and he rests his cheek against the crown of her head, and for the moment he doesn't try to fight back the sting in his eyes.

“Was just a dream, baby.” He kisses her temple, and he doesn't mean to but he's rocking her very slightly, and he knows she's so strong but God, she feels so small. Carrying her that final horrible time, she was so heavy but she felt so fucking small. “It's over now.”

It's not. It never will be.

But there's this.

She curls her fingers into his shirt and pushes herself further against him, burrowing, crawling practically into his lap. And now he can see it, feel it: He's aware that this particular piece of clothing is generally referred to as a _babydoll,_ which is sort of perfect in a number of ways, and it's pretty and delicate and just thin enough to give the imagination something delicious to work with. It's also a couple of sizes too big on her, and instead of stopping just below her hips it stops at mid-thigh, and the effect is both that she looks even smaller than she is and that it looks far more like…

It looks far more like a nightie to him. Something a little girl might wear to bed, unintentionally risqué. Now, unintentionally enticing.

He is _so_ fucked up.

“You're alright, baby girl.” He strokes her back, and it might be an accident and it isn't at all when his hand slips beneath the hem of the babydoll and grazes soft cotton panties. “I’m here. I gotcha. Nothin’s gonna hurt you.”

She nods, sniffles again. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, honey.” His hand slides further in, traces over the curve of her ass. It's almost innocent, and it's nothing of the kind. “I don't want you to feel bad.”

She lifts her head and looks up at him with huge blue eyes - red-rimmed but clear. _Her._ Always her. “Can you make me feel better, Daddy?”

He lays his other hand beneath her jaw and tilts her head up, presses his lips against hers in a way that manages to be nine-tenths chaste. “Think maybe I can show you a way to make _yourself_ feel better, baby.”

“Really?” Lips against his cheek, his jaw, and he shivers. She can be a fucking _demon_. He knows that very well. “How?”

“You can't tell no one. Alright? It's gotta be our secret.”

She shakes her head, solemn. “I won't tell, Daddy. Promise.”

“Alright. C’mon.” He reaches clumsily down and picks the laces of his boots loose, toes them off, pushes himself back onto the bed until he's sitting against the headboard, pillows cushioning his spine. He holds out his arms to her and she crawls to him, eyes wide and expectant, and it takes a tremendous amount of self-restraint to keep from seizing her by the waist and flipping her over and fucking her until she's wailing.

Later, maybe. If she wants. If she needs.

“Like this, honey.” He takes her by the hips and guides her, moves her to straddle his thighs with his cock a throbbing bulge between them. Ignored, for now. She settles, legs spread with her panties barely visible flashes of white beneath the lacy blue hem, and watches him with her teeth once more working her lip.

“What should I do, Daddy?”

“Don't do nothin’ yet. Gonna show you first.” He reaches up and trails his fingertips down her throat; her eyes fall half-closed and she hums, but her breath hitches when they glide further down, over her collarbones and chest and the small mounds of her breasts.

“What’re you doin’, Daddy?”

“Just relax, baby.” He traces her, circles the outlines of her, then cups her and swipes his thumbs slowly over her nipples. “That feel good?”

“Daddy, it-” She releases a sound that isn't quite a whimper, edged with mild surprise. “It feels… Oh. _Oh,_ it…” She arches slightly, sighing. “It's almost like it hurts.”

“Doesn't, though, does it?”

“No.” She rocks a little, angling her crotch forward as if seeking pressure, and she's already there and hungry behind her mask. So wet, if he touched her. She's probably been wet since before he walked in. “I guess it feels good, Daddy.”

“Might feel better if you do it.” He takes her hand and replaces his, holding it in place. Arranging it. His fingers feel thick and awkward, shaking even if he can look at them and see otherwise. Fuck, he shouldn't be this close already, but it feels like he's been on the edge for _hours._ “Give it a try, sweetheart.”

She drifts her fingers across her nipple and sucks in a tiny gasp, rolling her hips again. “I like it.”

“Good.” He drops his hands to her thighs and somehow he keeps them there, though his palms themselves are _screaming_ to give his cock the attention he's not asking her for. Not yet. Maybe not at all, and he can be the tormented one for a change. Only fair. “Keep goin’.”

She does, letting out a deeper sigh, lifting both hands and teasing herself with a little more expertise than entirely fits, and he couldn't care any fucking less. “I feel better, Daddy.”

“That's good, baby.” The smile that curves his mouth is sweet as a wolf’s. “But I think you can feel even better than this.”

“Really?” Her eyes flick open, wide again. Her fingers don't falter for a second.

“Mmhm.”

She curves her body forward, framing the sides of her breasts - showing herself off, and it's not even subtle - and her nipples are peaked, poking against the fabric and so ready for his lips. “Please show me, Daddy.”

It's a shame. He loves how it looks, has been half attentively considering ways he could do this and keep it on her. But there's convenience to think of, and there's the view it's hiding. He tugs at the hem of the babydoll and gives her thigh a squeeze, and she wriggles under his hand. “Take this off. You’ll feel it more.”

Anxiety flashes across her face, a blush in its wake, and her eyes are so bright. “Daddy…”

“It's alright, baby.” He glides his fingers across her belly, digging in slightly, and she jerks and giggles. The day he found out she’s ticklish was one of the best days of his goddamn life. “You can show me everything.”

“Okay, Daddy.” The anxiety is still there but the eagerness beaming through her is washing it out, and she tugs the babydoll over her head and drops it to the bed and sits there in just her plain cotton panties, the ones she only wears when they do this, her waist bent and lengthened and her tits standing out proud on her chest, nipples so flushed and hard.

He sucks in a breath. It's all him again, all but a thin film. “Oh baby… God, you're so beautiful.”

She huffs another laugh, quieter. Affecting embarrassment. “ _Daddy._ ”

“Y’are.” He takes her hands and places them. “Keep playin’ with your tits. See how good it feels.”

“My what?”

“Your tits, sweetheart. That's what they're called. And they're so pretty.” He licks his lips. How she feels in his palm. How she hardens under his tongue. His teeth. “I love ‘em so much.”

She looks thoughtfully down at them, her eyes tracking the lazy circles of her fingertips. “They're not really big.”

“They don't have to be. They're perfect just like they are.” He reaches up and slides a crooked finger under her chin, tips her head up and simply looks at her, throat working. There aren't words. _Perfect_ sure as hell doesn't get the job done. “Every part of you’s perfect, sweet girl.”

“Oh- Daddy.” She swallows and the whimper that slips out of her is high and a little strained. “Daddy, I feel… I feel sorta… funny.”

“Funny where?”

She blushes fiercely. A functional part of his brain wonders how much of this is acting anymore. How much of her is lost in it, and how fast he's following her. “Funny down- down _there._ ”

“Your pussy, baby?” The fingers still skating idly over her stomach start to glide downward, down over her panties and the smoothness of her shaved mound beneath the cotton, thumb dancing just above her clit. When she rocks herself, chasing him, he sees the dark spot spreading over the white and bites back his own whimper.

“Is that… what it's called?”

“That's right. Your tits and your pussy. This…” He strokes his thumb across her clit, light as a butterfly’s wing, and she twitches and a startled squeak breaks out of her. “See? You can make yourself feel so good down here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it's…” She hiccups a moan and squeezes her eyes shut, touch stuttering on her nipples. “Oh- Oh _Daddy,_ that feels… Oh my God.”

“You try now, baby.” And he caves - which is fine, because the internal scriptwriter he's learned to trust is whispering that it's time, he can and in fact should do it right now, and his gaze is locked on her wet, parted lips as he removes his hand from her and cups himself, kneading slowly and trapping a groan in his throat.

She gasps again, staring down at him, and hesitantly places her fingers over her clit, releasing a sharp little _oh_ when she presses down. “Daddy… What's that?”

“'s my cock.” He tightens his hand and hisses through briefly bared teeth as something lost between pleasure and pain surges through him, a second pulse when she moans and hunches forward, tracking his hand with rapt attention.

“Why is it bigger, Daddy?” Her eyes flick up to his face, her mouth tense and concerned - and so close to an evil smile. “Are you alright?”

“Oh… I'm fine, baby.” He covers her hand with his and presses her fingers down more firmly, dragging another dense gasp out of her. “Just means I like what you're doin’.”

She grins suddenly, pleased. “I like what I'm doin’ too.”

“That's so good, sweetheart.” He's still moving her fingers, lifting and guiding them into a circle, and she takes a trembling breath and returns her free hand to her breast, teasing her nipple in a circle to match the rhythm he's giving her. “Doesn't that feel even better?”

“Daddy… _Ahh,_ I feel so _good,_ Daddy.” She whimpers, soft and ragged, and suddenly she's plucking impatiently at the waistband of her panties. “Can I take these off? Will it feel better?”

He laughs and it twists into a rough growl. Fuck _bad dreams._ Just fuck them. They can't back this into a corner. “Yeah. Take ‘em off, baby. Play with your pussy for me.”

She has to scramble, lift herself awkwardly and do some kicking, but in the end her panties are crumpled at the foot of the bed and she's delightfully naked over him, her legs spread wide and the insides of her thighs glistening. Her lips are plump and dark and as she tilts her hips and examines herself, pulling in rapid breaths, he can practically see her swollen clit throbbing.

“What’s _that,_ Daddy?”

“That?” He ghosts down over her smooth mound, touches the edge of his finger to it and nudges, and she whines softly. “That's your clit. That's what feels so good.” He strokes her in two careful back-and-forth flicks, drawing out a harder whine - and that's too much, and he's fumbling at his zipper. “Keep touchin’ that, sweet girl. Play with your clit. You wanna-” His fingers push into his jeans and graze himself, and he twitches and bites down on the corner of his cheek. “You wanna see how I do it?”

“How you make yourself feel good?”

“Yeah, honey.”

“Yeah, Daddy. I wanna see.” She lowers her hand and traces up the folds of her lips, and her head falls back as a violent shudder grips her by the spine. “Daddy- Why is my pussy so _wet?_ ”

“‘cause that's what happens when you touch it just right.”

She noses a finger between them, watching herself again with her mouth open, rapturously interested. “So it's a good thing?”

“It's a real good thing.” He’s panting, not anywhere near enough oxygen in the room, his hand trembling and unsteady as he tugs his cock free and grips himself by the base, a shining drop of precome rolling down to his knuckles. “I get wet too. See?”

She looks- and freezes, her eyes like brilliant blue pools, her mouth even wider as she gapes at him. “You're…”

“Yeah.” His head is weighted with lead and he can't hold it up anymore, needs a few seconds of break time, and the back of his skull hits the headboard with a muffled thump and stars burst in his vision. No pain. He's not sure he's capable of feeling pain now. Not sure he has the nerves to spare. “I’m so wet, baby girl. Just like you.”

“Show me, Daddy.” All at once her voice is low and rough and almost a growl, and she braces a hand on his thigh, heavy as she hunches over him. Even playing an innocent little girl, the innocence doesn't completely fit. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

“Alright, honey.” He gives himself a stroke - one, slow - and it's difficult almost beyond what he can manage but he wrenches his head up and watches her face as he does it again, pulling his foreskin over the head and drawing it back as he flexes and more precome drips down his shaft.

If he makes it to three minutes from now it'll be a fucking miracle.

“Daddy… Seein’ it makes me feel so…”

“Funny?” A loose smile yanks at his mouth and he doesn't fight it. He. Is so. Fucked _up_. “Funny in your pussy?”

She's returned her fingers to her clit, rubbing quick and confident like an old hand. A bit too difficult to pretend that way now. She nods, still watching him. “It's gettin’ stronger.”

“Your pussy wants it, baby.”

“ _Oh._ ” She arches and a thick, helpless moan falls from her lips, her hips rolling in a steady rhythm - in time with his hand. “Does your cock want my pussy, Daddy?”

“Shit, you sweet little girl… It wants your pussy so bad.”

Her eyes are eating up her face, all eagerness. “What does it want to do?”

Okay, now she’s just being _mean._ Every muscle in his body coils, locks up, releases. _Not yet._ “It wants to be inside your pussy, sweetheart.”

“Will it- Oh _Daddy…_ Daddy, it’s so _big._ Will it feel good?”

 _Shit._ How the _fuck_ is he supposed to not come? How the fuck can he be expected to not do that? “My cock is gonna make you feel amazing, baby. Not yet, though. Not for a while.” He jerks himself faster, grip tight and blood pounding through him, but abruptly he stops and gropes for her hand on his thigh, dragging it up and closing it around his shaft, and she lets out a soft cry that's all surprise and delight and a healthy dose of wonder. “Feel me, baby girl. Feel how hard I am. You did that. _God,_ I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” She squeezes him and he growls again, jaw tight, thrusting up into her fist. “Daddy… What's happenin’?”

“You're gonna make me come. Little girl, you're gonna… _Jesus,_ baby, keep goin’, you're makin’ your daddy feel so _good_.”

“What does  _come_ mean, Daddy?” Breathless. He catches a glimpse of her sparkling, fascinated eyes and then it's too much, he's fumbling at her thighs just to hang on, just to keep from rocketing right through the ceiling.

“Gonna show you. Gonna show you now, baby, oh my _God,_ here it comes, fuck, _yeah-_ ” She cries out again as he bucks himself up like a wild horse and spills thick all over her hand, pulsing and shuddering and hissing _oh fuck, little girl, I love you, I love you_ until it tumbles him back down and he's clutching at her, breathing in huge trembling gasps, only half aware of her stunned _oh, Daddy._

“Baby.” He can barely see her, blinking away the warm sunset blur the room has become, her rising all gold and cream above him with her slick hand still slowly working his cock. “You're such a good girl, _Jesus_.”

“Daddy…” Dimly - then a lot less dimly - he's aware of the movement of her fingers on her clit, the tension rising back into her voice, and he feels a twinge of something less pleasant. Once again he took something from her. Once again he came first.

But she wanted that. And when she speaks again she sounds so happy. Nearly gleeful - but still with all that innocent curiosity.

“Can I come too, Daddy?”

“Sweetheart, you don't have to ask me.” He reaches up and cups her cheek, thumb against her lips, and she flicks her tongue at him. This isn't true. She still has to ask him, every time. Even now that some things have begun sliding in a new direction. But it's nice to pretend she doesn't. “You can come anytime you want.”

“What do I do?”

“You just keep doin’ what you're doin’, honey.” Her moans are coming in a hard, steady beat, and by now he can tell when she's right on the edge, all flushed and glowing with sweat, and it's beautiful to see. “Rub your pretty little clit. Just like that. You feel it comin’?”

“I think so. Daddy, I feel… _Ohh,_ oh, somethin’s happenin’, Daddy, I feel so funny, my pussy feels so _hot_ …”

“That means you're gonna come, baby.” Thumb past her lips and pressing down on her tongue, deeper when she sucks at him. “There you go. Make yourself feel good. _Fuck,_ you beautiful girl, you come for your Daddy now-”

But he's barely audible over her frantic moans, even to himself, and she convulses up and back and a short cry rips out of her as she releases his cock and works herself with both hands, chanting _DaddyDaddyDaddy_ as he holds her up by her hips and his jaw goes slack with awe.

_Sweet baby girl._

She's heaving as she comes down, almost falling and only catching herself with her sticky hands on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her in against him and holds her tight, her head tucked under his chin. And there's nothing much for a while, and there doesn't need to be. Just her getting back her breath, quivering with her aftershocks, and the last of the sun slipping out of the room. The blinds are half lowered, and he watches the shadow drifting across the ceiling until it's gone.

This is so fucked up. He should probably be so frightened.

He's not.

At last she stirs and shifts against him, everything in her heavy and slow, and he feels her smiling against his neck. He kisses her brow, and it's over that tiny circle, and that's exactly where it should be.

First just a quiet _mmm_. Then: “Daddy?”

So not quite over yet. That's more than fine. “Y’alright, baby?”

Enthusiastic nod, to the extent that she appears to have the strength. “Yeah, Daddy.”

“Feel better now?”

“Mhmm.” She kisses the underside of his jaw and it lingers. “I feel really good.”

He sighs, almost a laugh, and briefly tightens his hold on her even more, enough to squeeze a little _oof_ out of her. “That makes me so happy, sweetheart.” Lips against her scar. Later, if she lets him, he’ll trace each one with his mouth, kiss every inch, because they mean she came back to him. And he needs her to know it. “I want you to feel good all the time.”

“You always make me feel good.” That breathy Little Girl voice is fading and she's emerging, and that's more than fine too, because she sounds like _her._ Like she's not speaking to him from inside that cold gray fog. Like she's here with him.

Like she feels good again.

She wriggles his arms loose and pushes back and up, and looks at him. A hundred different things are swirling behind her eyes, and grayness is in there, but she's also full of light, and he sees relief. She got out. She’ll go back there, but for now she got out, and when she frames his face with her hands - tacky with drying come, and he doesn't give a shit - he closes his eyes and covers one of her hands with his, and she tips their foreheads together.

“You make me feel so good, Daryl.”

_It was just a dream. It's over now._

He pulls her back in and she goes without resisting, and after a little while he realizes that he's rocking her very slightly. And she does feel small. But more than anything else, in his arms like this she feels strong.

“I'm here,” he murmurs. _So are you._ “I'm here, Beth. I gotcha.”

_Nothing’s gonna hurt you._

_Except me._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I need to emphasize the degree to which this is Mollie/Schwoozie's fault - that this particular thing exists and that I wrote the particular stuff in it because some of it is almost stealing and that I started writing this particular kink in the fucking first place, jfc.
> 
> So that's a fuck you/thank you, basically. ❤️
> 
> Anyway, here's the depravity, enjoy.

And then sometimes - like the first time - he doesn't see this coming.

She can do that with him. For the most part, he can't with her. Not when it comes to this specific thing. It's not something they even had to discuss; from the beginning this was all happening on her terms more than anything else and it still is, and she decides. He can say no - the word isn't just for her - but something like this, she has to at least have some idea that it's imminent, if only so she can prepare. Get into character. Get an idea of what she wants. What she needs. 

Tell him if she doesn't feel like she can. 

But she can surprise him. She can be demanding. She's done that other times: Bucked for punishment, disobeyed him in ways that are clearly designed to get a reaction out of him, and he's always happy to oblige - happy to make her ass red as an apple, happy to bind her and tease her mercilessly and inform her that she won't be coming for the rest of the week, happy to twist and pinch and slap her tits until she's crying and begging for him to stop. Which obviously only makes it worse for her. 

And of course she's beginning to be demanding in so many other wonderful ways. 

She can surprise him, according to whatever desires she has, and unless he really can't, it's his job to give her what she wants. It's his job to please her. 

So she's restless now, turning over and over next to him, kicking at the sheets, and as he drifts back from a half doze she sighs impatiently and he sees her eyes shining in the moonlight, her bare shoulder and neck a marble slope rising and falling as she tosses like an angry sea. 

Not a nightmare, he doesn't think, watching her without moving. Just wakefulness. Sometimes her mind races and she can't slow it down. Sometimes she simply can't get comfortable. Nothing anyone else doesn't deal with, but he can tell that with her it's worse than it is for normal people - that with her, nothing will ever be truly _normal,_ and that's fine, because he doesn't even know what _normal_ feels like. 

He doesn't know which it is, but he's reaching for her, about to ask, offer to do something for her to help her relax - he can think of one or two things - when she wriggles against his side and releases another sigh. And something about its timbre clues him in a second before she murmurs - in that high, sweet Little Girl voice - “Daddy?”

Oh. 

All right. More than all right. The only question is which flavor of _all right_ she wants. 

He lifts a hand and cups her cheek, strokes her hair back from her face. “What is it, baby?”

She huffs, affecting exasperation. And it's not really an affectation at all. “I can't sleep.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He strokes her again, combs his fingers into her hair and lets the silky strands fall between them. “What's wrong?”

“I dunno. I just can't.” She squirms, pressing close, and heat washes slowly through him as her tits push against his chest and her smooth mound rolls against his already stiffening cock. They went to bed naked - they almost always do - and there's nothing remarkable about that in and of itself, but now she's his _baby girl_ and she definitely shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be crawling all bare-assed into her daddy’s bed. 

Not like they aren't already _really_ into doing things they shouldn't be doing. 

He kisses her brow. It's cool, slightly damp with sweat. “What d’you need me to do for you, baby?”

“You said you'd show me some other things.” He's well and truly hard now, nerves buzzing as every capillary blows wide, and she can feel it; he knows because she rocks her hips, her pubic bone delivering pressure that will, given a chance, become maddening. “About feelin’ good.”

Aha. Now he knows the timeframe. The setup. This is very nice. This is very much worth being awake for. “You wanna feel good?” He slides a hand up and between them, cups her breast and swipes his thumb a few times across her nipple, and smiles into the dark when she sighs and her skin tightens under his light touch. “Did you try makin’ yourself feel good, honey?”

She nods. “Wasn't enough. Daddy… Please help me. I wanna know how to do more.”

“Alright. If you really want.” 

He drops his hand to her hips and nudges her onto her back, and she goes, unprotesting, her eyes shining in the fall of pale light. Washed so clear of blue that they might be crystal. “Daddy,” she whispers, her legs already spreading, and he doesn't have to look hard to see the gleam on her inner lips. Another smile, another pulse of heat, and now a low throb is settling between his legs. Though this is about her. 

“You want me to show you somethin’ new, baby?”

She nods again, licking her lips. Eager, as always, and as always that part isn't even slightly an act. “You said you would.”

“Yeah, I did. Alright, here.” He glides his fingers down over her ribs, her belly - breathing a laugh when her muscles jump and she lets out a tiny squeak of a giggle - to her mound, trailing over her lips and carefully avoiding her clit. “Christ, you're so wet, baby. Were you already playin’ with your pussy?”

“Yeah.” She bites the edge of her finger, coy, and it's adorable. “I was tryin’, Daddy. I didn't wanna wake you up.”

“Aw, girl, you’re so sweet. But you can wake me up anytime you need to.” 

“Okay, Daddy.” Her breath catches and she lifts her hips, lifts her whole body, radiating yet more impatience. Spoiled child. Used to getting what she wants. “Daddy, please… Touch my…”

“Your what?”

“My clit.” In a vaguely conspiratorial whisper. Also as if it's a struggle for her, and the moon washes her into ivory but he knows she's blushing. He can hear the swelling warmth in her voice and it swells heat in him. “It feels so _big._ ”

“Did you make yourself come, baby?”

She shakes her head, pushing up to watch his fingers with her lips parted and her tongue slicking them. “I wanted you to do it.” She swallows. “I know you haven't yet, Daddy, but I want you to. You know how to do so much stuff, I bet you could do it even better than me.”

“Maybe I could do that.” He makes his tone thoughtful, considering, and she moans breathlessly as he dances a circle around her clit with a single fingertip. She’ll more than get him back for it, but God, she does love to be teased and God, he's so happy to indulge her. “You really can't tell anyone, though. Okay? Daddy could get in a lotta trouble.”

Her eyes widen in faint alarm. “Why, Daddy?”

“‘cause people would think it was bad, sweetheart.”

“But it's _not!_ ” She sounds vaguely outraged. “I _like_ it, Daddy. I like when we play. It feels so nice.”

“I like it too.” Once more he presses a kiss to her forehead and she murmurs something he can't make out, laying a hand on his upper arm and simply holding on. “I like it so much. I love you, sweet girl.”

She smiles like a sunbeam and rolls her hips in a slow, obscene undulation. Nothing childlike whatsoever. Unless it's a particularly wicked child. Which she is. “I love you too, Daddy.”

“I’m gonna show you somethin’, then. You just relax.” He slides downward, fingers still working her, and she braces herself up on one elbow, watching him with bright, curious eyes. For a moment he's caught, captured and motionless; _fucked up_ is just a matter of course now and for the most part he doesn't even think about it except inasmuch as it's a perversely delightful thought, but now and then it hits him all over again and he's breathless. 

She's taken him into places he never thought he would go. Places he didn't know existed. 

“Daddy?”

“You know how I showed you how to play with these?” He cups her breast again, and this time he holds her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and she twitches when he gives her a light pinch. “Showed you how to play with your cute little titties?” 

“Yeah.”

“More than just fingers feel good on ‘em, baby.”

She cocks her head, frowning just a bit. Puzzled. “What else feels good, Daddy?”

“I'll show you.” He lowers his head and pinches her again, harder, and she whimpers and tightens and whispers _oh, Daddy._ No pain. That isn't part of this, and he has no plan to make it so. “You can't do this yourself. You need someone else to do it for you.”

“Like you, Daddy?”

“Like me.” His eyes are locked on her sweet, innocently fascinated face as he closes the last bit of distance and flicks out with his tongue, and she gasps in obvious surprise as he licks at her nipple. 

“Daddy, that's… Oh.”

“You like that, sweetheart?”

“I dunno.” She grips his arm and shivers, and squeezes her legs together, the strong muscles of her thighs flexing. Something for him to push past. “Do it again?”

“I'll do it as much as you want, baby.” He lowers his head and this time it's his lips, closing around her and sucking gently, and she arches and releases a thicker moan. His hand makes its way back down to her mound and noses into the seam between her pressed thighs, and she opens to him with a whimper as he traces up her pussy lips with two fingers. 

“Daddy, that… that’s so nice. Your tongue is so soft…” He raises his gaze to her face again and her eyes are round as cliched saucers as she watches him, her hands now fisting in the sheets. “Why does it feel hot in my pussy when you do that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head, fighting back laughter - then stops fighting. There's no reason to. Now and then she edges this into distantly surreal comedy and it always makes the whole thing even cuter. “That's just how you're made, honey.”

“Oh.” She whimpers again, gropes for his head and slides her fingers into his hair, gripping in a way he's certain isn't entirely voluntary. “Please do it more, Daddy.”

“Do what?”

This time her blush is dark enough to see even in the moonlight, and she covers her face with one hand as a nervous, embarrassed little giggle escapes her. “Suck my… Oh, Daddy, suck my- my tit, please.”

“You got such good manners, honey.” He grins against the side of her breast, gives her another couple of firm flicks with his tongue, and when she squirms and moans he sucks her - makes it so gentle. And she pushes her hips into his hand as he circles around her clit, touching everywhere _but_ it, trying to keep down more laughter as she pleads with him in broken sentences. 

Finally he pauses and looks up at her again and has to stop, stop everything and just look: Her tumbled back onto the bed like she's been dropped there from some considerable height, trembling with one hand loose at her side, her back arched and her tits heaving with every indrawn breath. Head rolling and air spilled long and glossy across the pillow. Everything pale as milk. 

_Pretty girl._

“You like this, baby?”

“It's… It's so good, Daddy.” Her tongue sweeps once more across her lips. “But my pussy…”

He places a quick kiss on her wet nipple. “What about your pussy?”

“It wants you, Daddy.” Very sincere. As if this is a terribly serious matter. “It wants you to touch it _more.”_

“Your clit?”

Another nod. Stronger than the previous. Just short of desperate.

“Think I can do better than that.” One more slow lap of his tongue, then he's pushing up on his elbow and gazing down at her, cock smearing precome over her hip when he grinds against her. Making certain she feels it. “You remember how I said my cock wanted your pussy?”

“Mmhm.” Her eyes - somehow - widen even more. “Daddy, are… Oh, God, Daddy, are you gonna take my pussy? Are you…” She swallows hard. “Are you gonna put it in me?”

 _Oh, fuck._ He grits his teeth, forces his hips to still. Somehow she knows what to say, knows exactly how to say it in such a way that it makes him absolutely fucking crazy. Sometimes he wonders if she could make him come with her mouth alone. And not how she normally does. “You want me to, baby? You want me to fuck your little pussy?”

“What does _fuck_ mean, Daddy? When you say it like that?”

“It's…” His fingers stutter and he has to take a breath, another. Oxygen is sort of necessary to this. “It's what it's called, puttin’ my cock in your pussy. Movin’ in and out. It feels so good.” He pauses, and this time when he passes his fingers up her lips he nudges the tips between them. “You do it when you really love someone. And I- _shit,_ I love you so much, baby girl.”

“ _Ohh._ ” A long breath escapes her and her head tosses, tips into the moonlight, and her skin is smooth and lovely and unmarred except for the hard lines of her scars, and somehow those only add to it. Accentuate. He tracks them with his eyes, covers the terrain of her in unhurried passes, and when he has difficulty filling his lungs this time, it's for a different reason. 

The day he realized he loved her scars, he was a little afraid there might be something wrong with him. The day he told her he did, he was a little afraid _she_ might think there was something wrong with him.

Neither of those things ended up being true.

“I love you, Daddy,” she breathes. “I wanna show you how much.” Then, very soft: “Did you do that to Mommy?”

Every organ in his body jerks to a halt and he freezes, fingers up to the first knuckle between her lips and centimeters from pressing into her, and stares down at her. She's still not looking at him - is blinking dreamily into the moonlight, her face relaxed - but he's sure he's not imagining the flash of challenge in her eyes. 

As if there was _any_ remaining room for question regarding _exactly_ what is going on here, and _exactly_ how fucked up it is. 

He’ll either have the balls to follow her there, or he won't.

He's never yet backed down from anything she's thrown at him. 

“Yeah,” he says, just as soft. “Yeah, I did. ‘cause I loved her.” He presses his lips to her brow - to the slash of her scar - and suddenly there's a sweet ache in his chest that has nothing to do with what he's saying or what they're pretending and everything to do with the softness of his voice, of hers, the heat of her skin, how wet she is under his hand, her quivering moan when he circles her entrance with a fingertip. “And I love you just as much, sweetheart.”

“So you're gonna do it?” She rolls her head to face him, still with that dreamy look masking the sparkling mischief. “You're gonna fuck my pussy?”

“Not yet.”

She pulls her lips into a pout and he wants to lean in and bite them, suck them plump and swollen - and it's not time for that either. “Why not?”

“‘cause you ain't ready, baby. You will be. Pretty soon.” He circles her again and her legs spread for him, her fingers clutching at his hair and tugging almost hard enough to sting. “Could show you kinda what it's like, though. How good it feels. Want me to do that?”

She nods, the pout melting into a radiant smile. “Yeah, Daddy.” She pushes up on one elbow and gazes down at his hand between her legs, her knees bending so she can spread even wider. “What’re you gonna do?”

He stops circling, stops teasing, presses in the smallest bit. Hardly at all. “Feel this, honey?” 

“That's…” When she releases a breath he feels her flex - tighten and loosen, as if trying to grip him. “That feels funny, Daddy.”

“Good?”

“I dunno. Just.” She giggles, faintly uncertain. “Funny.”

“This is where Daddy’s cock is gonna go. Right in here.” Deeper, gliding gradually and easily in with a quiet squelch, and her breath hitches as she pushes herself up further, straining to see. 

“That's… _Ohh,_ but…” She looks up at him, anxiety flashing tense across her features. “Daddy, you're so _big_. Are you gonna fit in me?”

“I'll fit just fine, baby.” He lays a lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth and withdraws, presses carefully back in, and she clenches around him and shudders, her eyes fluttering closed. “You’ll stretch. And when you get all wet, like this-” He pulls out of her, and as her eyes pop open he draws a shining circle on her belly, digging his finger in enough to twitch a tiny giggling squeal out of her. “-that helps make it easier.”

“Oh- Good.” She leans up and kisses his jaw, leaves him with just a hint of teeth. “It felt nice, Daddy. Do it again? Like your cock? Please?”

“Fuck you, sweetheart? Yeah, I can do that.” He drags his wet finger back down her mound and pushes into her, faster this time, and she arches with a hard groan, reaching between her legs for his hand and covering it with hers. “I can do that for my sweet girl.”

He does. Not rough, not too fast, gentle as the electric hum in his muscles will allow him to be. Smooth, even thrusts into her, breathing a laugh against her temple when she trembles and whispers _oh Daddy, Daddy, yes._ She's rocking her hips to meet him, keeping perfect time with him, angling up and forward as if chasing the touch he's denying her clit, her little fingers tight and burning around his wrist. 

“Honey… God, you feel so hot inside.” He covers her mouth with his - just for a few fleeting seconds, still almost completely chaste - and grinds himself against her hip, hissing when the latent ache between his legs abruptly isn't so latent anymore. “You wanna make your daddy feel good too?”

“I-” She wriggles, her hand falling away from his wrist - as if she already knows what he's going to say, because she almost certainly does. “I always wanna make you feel good, Daddy. What- Oh _God-_ What should I do?”

“Put your hand on me, baby.” He turns slightly, tilting to give her easier access and groaning thickly as her fingers fumble at his shaft. “Just like I showed you. Remember?” 

She nods, whimpers, closes her slippery fingers around him and squeezes, and he growls a half coherent curse, rutting clumsily against her. “That's so nice, honey. Ah, Christ, you're _such_ a good girl, I can't wait to be in your tight little pussy-”

“Daddy.” Her moan is choked, just short of strangled, and there's nothing faint about her desperation as her hips snap against his hand and she jerks him in rough, awkward strokes. “Daddy, I wanna come… My clit… It _hurts,_ Daddy, _please_ help me come.”

And over the wild, coiling pleasure throbbing in his head like the blood in his cock, pounding through every vein and roaring through his heart: Inspiration. It's difficult to focus on it, slippery as her fingers, and he's already so goddamn close and every thrust into her fist is scorching heaven, but he does, and he thinks about her tossing and turning and drowning in weary frustration, reaching for him - because he can enfold her in his own kind of darkness. Draw her in. Make her feel so good.

His girl. 

“Lemme go, honey.” He's pulling himself free before her grip has a chance to loosen and then he's shifting downward, finger still deep in her, as she lets out a querulous noise and blinks dazedly down at him.

“ _Daddy,_ what’re you-”

Cutting off into nothing when he settles between her legs and places a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her mound. 

Her voice is quavering. Jumping all over the scale. Skirting the edge of delighted laughter. “What’re you doin’ down there, Daddy?”

“Remember how good my mouth felt, baby? On your titties, before?”

She nods, swallowing with an audible click. 

“Feels even better here.” He smiles, kisses her again - flicks his tongue against the slight stubble just above the hood of her clit, and as she yanks in a sharp gasp he swirls downward and circles her, flutters, gives her a long, hard cat-lap. Her moan twists up into a thin whine and she tangles her fingers in his hair, and he lets her scatter pain all along his scalp as he licks his _baby girl,_ pumps his finger in and out of her sweet sloppy pussy, her juices flowing thick into his mouth and smearing his chin and his cheeks and dripping down his knuckles.

He knows it has to be only a couple of minutes at most but he could get lost in it, stay down here for hours and feed on her, and too soon she's hooking a leg over his shoulder and crunching herself up with a low wail as she comes all over his face and he gulps her in and swallows, fucks her through it, lowers her like a heaving boneless doll. A doll panting _oh, Daddy, Daddy, that's so nice, oh my God, Daddy._

He slips his finger out of her and kisses her clit, gives it a careful little suck, and when she squeaks and jerks under him he grins against her thigh and closes his eyes, licking her cream off his lips. 

At some point he gets a hand under him and crawls back up to lie beside her, and when she snuggles close with a soft _mmmDaddy_ he touches her lower lip with a slick fingertip. Her eyes are open and very large, and so innocent as she gazes up at him. 

“That feel good, sweet girl? You like when I lick your pretty pussy?”

She nods, lets out a shaky giggle. “Your tongue… _Oh,_ I came so _hard,_ Daddy.”

“You liked when I was fuckin’ you?”

Another nod, enthusiastic as she can be when she's this fucked out. “Is it gonna feel that good when it's your cock, Daddy?”

He traces her lip, watching with dim fascination as it yields under his light pressure. “‘s probably gonna feel kinda different. But I think it's gonna feel good.” He ducks his head and kisses the tip of her nose, and she twitches her head back and giggles again. “I want you to like it, baby. I’m gonna try so hard to make it good for you.”

“I know you will, Daddy.” She sighs happily and closes her eyes. “You always do.” 

“Nothin’ makes me happier, sweetheart. Nothin’ in the whole world.” He hesitates - not because he's unsure but simply because she looks like a fucking angel and he almost can't bear to disturb her, her eyelashes lying heavy against her cheeks and her glistening lips slightly parted - then presses his fingertip against her once more, coaxing at her mouth. “Wanna taste yourself?”

Her eyes open, sleepily curious. “Do I taste good?”

“Oh, baby girl, you taste so fuckin’ sweet.” Before he's done speaking she’s already opening to him, greeting him with her tongue and sucking gently at his finger as he slides deeper, humming low in her throat as her eyes fall closed again. And that's when he's freshly and _violently_ aware of his own cock, the wet suction of her lips and the maddeningly inadequate pressure of her belly, and before he can stop himself he groans and rubs himself against her in a long roll of his hips.

Abruptly she pulls her head back, tongue working in her mouth and her brows drawn together in obvious concern. “Daddy- Daddy, you didn't come.”

“I'm alright, baby.” He's not. He's practically in pain. But it's not like it matters, and it's not like he doesn't have a goddamn hand. “I can take care of it.”

“That's not _fair._ ” All at once she's pushing herself up and staring gravely at him, reaching between them and feeling for him, and he bares his teeth and hisses as she curves her palm over his aching shaft. “Daddy, you should feel good too. You made me so happy, you should let me.” 

He was perfectly content to do just what he said, get himself off or simply suffer through it. But she says it like _that_ \- absolutely no interest in being argued with - and he chuckles, a bit ragged, and turns partway onto his back with the head of his cock hovering just above the plane of his lower belly. Her hand is still on it, and as she strokes him a bead of precome gathers at the tip and drips in a long, glistening strand to his skin. 

He lays his hand over hers, not encouraging or guiding or forcing but merely there. “Let you do what, honey?”

She seems to be considering, sitting up beside him and licking her lips, looking from his cock to his face and back again. “You made me come with your mouth,” she says finally decisive. “I wanna do that to you.” 

_Oh, Jesus._ He wouldn't have asked for it. Even if they weren't playing, he wouldn't have asked for it. This is for her, her frustration and the night that wouldn't receive her, and he believes she can probably sleep now. If he pulled her into his arms and held her, combed his fingers through her hair, she would probably be out like the proverbial light. But under the Little Girl voice she sounds more than decisive. 

She sounds hungry. 

“You-” He squeezes her hand, gazes up at her. Next time she orders him to his knees he’ll fucking worship her. Not that he wouldn't anyway. “You don't have to do that, baby. It's really okay.”

“I _want_ to.” Now she sounds comically like she would stamp her foot if she had a floor to do it on. “I wanna know how. You said you'd show me things. You _said._ ”

He has to laugh. It's rough at the edges and trembling in the middle, because her fingers are wicked little things and they're doing exactly what they need to do in order to get him simmering, but she's just so fucking _cute_ that he's not sure what else he's supposed to do. “I did say that, huh?”

She nods. And she's already bending, lifting herself over him and leaning in, and he watches her with his mouth abruptly cracked and desert-dry as she curls her fingers around his base and presses a kiss to the fold of skin just beneath the head, light as goose down. 

“I love your cock, Daddy.” She's not looking at him; she's looking at _it,_ rapt, holding it and sucking in a breath when his muscles tense and it twitches up and down, almost jumping in her hand. She pauses, gives him a torturously slow stroke, and her gaze flicks back to his face. “Did Mommy make you feel good this way?”

His heart lodges in his throat and for a few seconds he can't breathe, can't move, can't do anything but gape at this wonderful, _evil_ girl and spare a few fragmentary brain cells for wondering why the fuck this has yet to freak him out. 

Then he's all in. 

He reaches down and slides a hand into her hair, smooths it back from her face and gathers it over her shoulder, makes a ponytail with his fist. So he can see. Her beautiful face. Her pretty mouth. Her full, cocksucker lips. “Yeah, honey. She did.”

“Then I wanna do it too,” she breathes, and she kisses him again. The base this time, just above his balls, her breath so hot and carrying a hint of wet with it like a promise. “‘cause I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, little girl.” And he does. _God,_ he does. He loves her so much he thinks his heart might hammer out through his sternum, and his legs spread, making a place for her as he slides back enough to prop himself up on the pillows. Better view. Gleam of her lips and her bright doe eyes on him, soft and inviting. “Alright. I'll teach you how.”

She grins, dips her head and _nuzzles_ at him, precome in a shining smear across her cheek, and he tugs at her hair - _gentle,_ God, he has to be gentle with her right now because it'll be so much sweeter - and a groan lurches in his chest, swelling in time with his heart. 

“There's lots of ways to do it, baby. That's what makes it fun.” He lifts himself, seeking her, and she's so close. “Kiss me again. Kiss the tip. Do it real slow.”

She does, lips parted and her tongue sweeping over him, and his groan pounds into his throat as he holds her in place with her hair still clutched in his fist. She's not struggling, and he's not completely sure what he'll do if she starts to do so. “Oh, honey… Honey, that's so good already. Look at it now.” He reaches down and wraps his hand around himself, lifting and showing her as she gazes at it. “You see that hole? You remember how it was when I came?”

She nods, mouth open and her breath coming in shallow pulls. 

“That's where it comes outta, sweetheart.” His grip on her hair loosens and he strokes her, thumb drawing the strands back from her face. “You really wanna make your daddy feel good?”

“Daddy… All the time.” She swallows. “Just tell me how.”

“When I come, you gotta take it in your mouth. All of it.” He tugs her head up and touches the head of his cock to her chin, leaving another shining smear. “You show it to me when you do. Then you swallow it. You swallow it all down into your tummy. It's easy. Think you can do that?”

Another positively angelic smile, her teeth flashing. “What do I do next, Daddy?”

“Lick it. The tip, like just now. Like it’s an ice cream cone. Lick it all over, baby. Nice and slow.”

Her tongue slides delicately past her lips and she licks, hesitant at first with slightly apprehensive glances up at him, but he keeps stroking her hair, encouraging her as waves of pleasure pulse from the head of his cock to the cores of his balls, and he releases a shaky moan and whispers _fuck, baby girl, that's so nice._

She pauses, smiles slick and drags a not-quite kiss over him, her lips catching the edge of his foreskin. “Am I doin’ good, Daddy? Am I doin’ it good as Mommy did?”

“Honey…” He manages a frayed laugh, giving her hair a twist. “Oh, Christ, you might get even better. You're pickin’ it up pretty quick.”

“I'm tryin’ real hard, Daddy.” She licks at him again, and somehow it's a bit thoughtful. “You taste kinda funny.”

“You don't like it?”

She shakes her head emphatically. “I like it. It's just… It's not like me.”

“Well, I ain't like you, honey.” He slides his hand up his shaft, traces along her bottom lip with the head. “My come is gonna taste different, too.”

“Will it taste good?”

“I dunno if it'll taste good to you. Hope so.” Pause, reaching into all that twisted delight seething in him like magma in a lava dome and finding the words. “Mommy loved it. Used to ask for it all the damn time. Sucked me off and drank it down like a fuckin’ milkshake, baby.”

She flushes dark and he knows he's hit her in a sweet spot, met her head-on. He's fighting back a grin as she delivers a broad pass with the flat of her tongue, tracing the tip over his slit - getting him back, because his eyes slam shut and a tense whine forces its way out through his teeth.

So he tugs again at her hair, harder and with a bit of real force behind it, maneuvering himself so he's pressing between her lips and nudging them further apart. Her eyes haven't left his, and she's all dancing excitement, eager to please. “Now you gotta put it in your mouth. C’mon, open up.” She does, fresh uncertainty blending with that eagerness, and her tongue laps clumsily at him as he pushes gradually deeper. Only so deep; he stops at a couple of inches and cups the back of her head, hissing a heavy breath. 

“Want you to suck me now, baby. Just like you were suckin’ my finger. Be careful. ‘s not good when you use your teeth.” 

She nods, awkward, and gives him an experimental suck, and he clenches back the urge to thrust into her, fuck into her throat like he knows he can. Make her gag, stream spit and tears. “Do it again.” He caves, rolls up just a little, and she tenses and anxiety plucks at her face. “You can do it. I know you can. Be a good girl for your daddy.”

A quiet _mmm_ vibrates from her into him and his hand tightens in her hair as he fists his shaft with his other and holds it in place for her. His eyes are heavy-lidded, everything in him feeling that way, weighted down by how fucking _good_ this is, and she hollows her cheeks as she takes him in, pulls back, glides her wonderfully stretched lips down again. He coaxes her into a rhythm, guiding her with gentle pushes and pulls, and her low moans fall into it and keep time. 

“That's it. _Ah,_ girl, that's so good. You're so nice to your daddy. Keep suckin’, you're doin’ it just right.” He wants to lean his head back, close his eyes and just _feel_ her working tongue and the soft, wet sheath of her mouth. But he needs to see this, though it's half lost in shadow, only half her bobbing face visible at all.

He's watched her suck his dick hundreds of times now, in just as many ways, but this is different in a way he has no idea how to define, and it's flooding through him like the slowest orgasm in the world. 

“I bet your hot little pussy is gonna feel better, but this is so fuckin’ sweet, baby.” He rocks upward, a touch less gentle, and a startled sound hums in her throat. “I wanna try somethin’. Alright? Mommy used to do this too, so I wanna see if you can.” 

She hesitates, breathing in short puffs through her nose, then manages another nod. 

“I wanna go deeper. I'll be careful. If you don't like it, it's okay. We can stop.” Her hands close over the tops of his thighs and squeeze, and he takes it for what he knows it is: A few seconds of emergence. A check-in. He was asking without asking. She's answering him the same way. 

_Keep going._

“You need to relax, sweetheart. Just relax and breathe. I'll take care of the rest.” He waits a few seconds, finds a more secure hold on the back of her head and presses her down. 

She's good at this by now. Once she realized what needed to be done she worked at it herself, wrestled her gag reflex under control and practiced with him until he could just about fuck her throat without too much difficulty. But of course now she _can't_ be good at it, and he loves it when she pretends she's not, so he can look down at her on her knees with her face wet and blotchy with crying, thick runners of drool dangling from her chin and dripping to the floor. Loves _making_ her do it. 

He won't be rough with his baby girl. But she's going to do this for him. She's going to do it for her daddy. 

She stiffens when he grazes the back of her throat but he doesn't let up; he tightens his grip and pauses a few more seconds, then presses again, and when she whimpers he drowns her out with a groan. “Relax, baby, nice and easy. _Fuck,_ take my cock down your fuckin’ throat. Take it all.” Another second and he's pushing past the last of her resistance and into her with a harsh _oh shit yes,_ and a violent gagging seizes her and she spasms, fumbling at his thighs with frantic whimpers. He releases her as she jerks her head up and breaks into a fit of coughing, lines of spit strung between her swollen lips and the head of his cock, and the hand in her hair is stroking rather than gripping as he murmurs to her. 

“See, you did it. You did it, oh, sweet baby, you're such a good girl…” He leans forward, frames her face with his hands and smudges the tracks of her tears away with his thumbs. This part isn't play, isn't a mask; he _feels_ it like the thrum of his heart. How much he loves her. How amazing she is, how generous with him, and like always he needs her to know. “I'm so proud of you. You're doin’ so great. Y’alright?”

She coughs again, nods and gives him a wobbly smile, and he breathes a laugh. “Alright. You wanna get me off now? You wanna make daddy come all over your little tongue?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” she whispers hoarsely, and he doesn't have to bring her back down; she goes on her own, returning to that slightly awkward rhythm they established before, and he grits his teeth and stares down at her, fingers tangled in her hair. 

He doesn't want this to stop. He thinks he probably has less than half a minute, but he almost can't bear for this to end. 

“God, sweetheart…” All distinction between groans and laughter is gone, and they wash through him in warm pulses, sending light across his vision with increasing speed as everything in him winds tight and burning and he pants out words like thrusts. “That's perfect. Fuckin’ love how you suck my cock, baby girl. Gonna suck my come right out. _Shit,_ here it comes. You ready?” Her eyes are squeezed shut but he feels her bobbing her head slightly out of rhythm, hears a strangled _mmhmm_ and it’s like permission. He arches in a single hard convulsion, hands clenched around the sides of her head as he hisses a string of incoherent obscenities and spills into her in three sharp spurts like blows to the sternum. 

“Hold it.” Wrenching himself out of it, shudders continuing, and he leans up again and forces himself to focus. “Open wide’n show me. Lemme see my come on my angel’s tongue.” 

She's gasping, her mouth still full of his dick, and he pulls her back by the hair as she opens and shows him, milky drops of it dribbling from the corners of her mouth and running down her jaw. 

“That's my good girl,” he whispers. “Now swallow.”

She closes her mouth and gulps once, twice, and when his fingers slip free of her hair, her head sags forward and she half collapses against his leg. And he could call her up to him, draw her out of it, but he lets her stay down there, weaving back through her hair and petting her as she subsides and curls into him with her lips grazing his softening cock. Closing his eyes and murmuring to her, telling her again what a good girl she is, how amazing she made him feel, how much her daddy loves her. 

How sweet it's going to be when he fucks her. When she's ready.

When at last he opens his eyes and looks down, she's looking back up at him with her cheek resting on the top of his thigh and her eyes glittering. She reaches up, trails her fingertips over his stomach and smiles when she sets his muscles quivering. 

“Are _you_ alright?”

Her voice, smooth and musical. Her own now. He nods, breathing slow and deep, and so is she. He thinks she might be about to crawl back up over him and settle against his side, but instead her brow furrows and presses her hand flat, steady and solid.

“Are you okay with it?” She pauses. “With this? Really?” 

“Beth.” He drifts his hand down her face and cups her cheek, traces the seam of her lips with the pad of his thumb, and sighs when she parts them and sucks gently, briefly. _Baby._ “I'm so fuckin’ okay.”

“You know you can tell me if you're not. If it's… y’know. Too much.”

He shakes his head. It's _her,_ features sharp and ageless in the moonlight, but it's also not. Sweet girl, so happy to please her daddy. So excited to learn. So ready to be utterly corrupted. To be twisted into something sick and shameless and deliciously perverse.

“I know, baby.” He pushes his thumb back into her mouth, deeper, pressure on her tongue. “It’s perfect. You're perfect.” Slight withdrawal and a rougher thrust, stretching her lips to the side. “I'm gonna teach you to suck cock like a goddamn pro. So much better than Mommy. And I'm gonna fuck your sweet little pussy so hard. Soon. Make you all mine.”

She almost laughs, shudders, and then she's raising herself and shifting up to lie tucked against his side, nuzzling her head under his chin. Still trembling the smallest bit, and when she slings a leg across his hips he feels her cunt slick on his skin. 

“I wanna be yours, Daddy,” she whispers into the hollow of his throat. “I love you. I love you so much.”

He smiles and turns his head, turns everything, wraps her up in his arms and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep now, sweetheart.” 

Because he knows she can. And she does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been waiting for a while to finish this, through a frankly rough period. Finally it felt like time, which made me very happy. 
> 
> Also very happy with how it actually ended, which I didn't completely see coming. It opens up some things in this series/universe that I'm majorly excited to explore. Plus: sweetness. Lots of sweetness. 
> 
> ❤️

She ambushes him. Actually honest-to-God ambushes him.

It’s not the first time. Not even remotely. There have been a lot of ambushes. The first time she wanted it rough was arguably an ambush. The first soft little _Daddy_ was arguably an ambush. Entering their bedroom after two days on the road to find her fucking herself with a makeshift dildo and _demanding_ that he watch her do it was absolutely an ambush. But none of those times were at all approaching the literal, so he comes home late that afternoon from only a day out - just a quick run, not a recruiting mission, and he barely broke a sweat - and she _launches_ herself at him in a golden blur with an overjoyed “ _Daddy!_ ” and as she wraps her arms around his waist he just about stumbles back against the door.

Which would jam the bow painfully into his shoulderblades. So it's good that he doesn't.

He stands there and looks down at her, blinking and starting to process- and as he does, the situation clarifies itself and he draws a slow breath.

Cornsilk hair a deeper gold in the lowering sun, pulled back into pigtails. A bright pink and what appears - though she's still hugging him and he can't clearly see her front - to be _extremely_ tight t-shirt, and as he lowers his hands instinctively to her hips he feels denim.

And a couple inches lower, a softly ragged edge with smooth, warm skin beyond.

He can make guesses regarding what he's going to see when she steps back, and what's going to be required of him. And it's not like it's a fucking hardship; the conventional rule - though there are beginning to be some exceptions - is that she make herself immediately available to him if he returns after any significant length of time, and he can use her however he wants for as long as he wants before he allows her to get back to whatever it was she was doing. Most of the time he’s tired and frequently in need of a shower and change of clothes, and just wants a fast, hard fuck before he dismisses her. But sometimes things get more complicated.

Sometimes she wants more complicated.

He's tired. He's not _that_ tired.

“You're back!” She hugs him tighter, squeezing a grunt out of him - she was always strong and she's only gotten stronger - and nuzzles her face against his chest. “Daddy, I've been waitin’ _all day._ ” She lifts her head and tilts it back, gazing adoringly up at him with her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide and shining, all excited innocence. It's wonderfully convincing, and heat flares low in his gut as his breath tightens. “Whadja bring me?”

He cocks his head slightly, grants her half a smile as he settles his hands more firmly on her waist. He still hasn't gotten a good look at her with her body pressed flush against his, but he can feel more enticingly smooth skin above her low waistband - exposed midriff. He's getting an image. “Was I supposed to bring you somethin’, baby?”

“ _Daddy._ ” She rolls her eyes extravagantly and releases him. “It's my _birthday._ ”

_Oh._

He really should answer that. And the answer should be a good one. Instead he's merely staring at her again, gaze raking over her, all his words for the moment accessible. It's not like she's never dressed up for him before, either, but it's less of a thing for him; it can be nice, but usually he wants her out of whatever she's wearing as quickly as possible, because he has work to do and ultimately clothing only gets in the way. But there’s the nightie, and now…

There's her with those cute pigtails flipped over her shoulders, her tits squeezed into that tiny pink tee which - he can now see - is emblazoned on the front with a happy unicorn outlined in glitter. It stops a couple of inches above her bellybutton, and riding low on her hips is the tightest little pair of denim cutoffs he's ever seen. Things are practically fucking _panties_ , and it hits him that as he's discovered he can do with ropes, the seam of the crotch must be digging into her pussy, pressure and friction she can't escape even when she's motionless.

Long, graceful legs, white ankle socks, fucking white tennis shoes. And a bandaid on her left knee with cartoon kittens gamboling all over it, and somehow that's the detail that sends blood roaring so hard to his cock that for a second or two he's literally dizzy.

Perfect picture of a girl not far from the cusp of adolescence, sweetly unselfconscious and innocently ignorant of her own burgeoning sexual power, and therefore unaware that her wardrobe selections are beginning to edge her toward the territory of _slut._

She shifts from one foot to the other and bites her thumb, radiating hopefulness. “You didn't forget, Daddy. Right?”

Part of the game, sure. A prod. An opening for him to be an asshole if he wants. But also something deeper, something behind the mask and beneath the voice, and he recognizes it instantly. She’ll ambush him, sure. But she won't deny him a choice about what comes after.

_Is this okay? Can we?_

He looks her up and down again, slow. Hungry.

Gives her an almost imperceptible nod.

Her eyes flash - not merely figurative as a beam of sun hits them - and she bounces a bit on the toes of those tennis shoes, still nibbling at her thumbnail. Outside the day is warm, but her nipples are peaked against the thin fabric of her shirt, and he wonders if she was teasing them before he got here. If she was getting herself ready.

He wonders how wet she is. If he parted those naked thighs, whether their creases would be shining and slick.

He regards her in silence for a few seconds longer- then he sighs and his face falls, all regret, maybe even a bit of embarrassment as he drops his eyes and steps past her, unshouldering the bow and heading for the couch. “Shit, I'm sorry, honey.”

“Daddy?” Surprise bleeding into hurt disappointment in a single word as she trails behind him, the soles of her shoes squeaking on the hardwood, and he almost feels bad for her even as he's fighting back a grin. She's selling it so fucking well. Moments like this, he's proud of her in a way he never imagined was possible. “You…”

“Completely slipped my mind.”

He sets the bow onto the rug and sinks down onto the couch, bent over his knees to comb his fingers back through his hair. He lifts his eyes to watch her approach - the subtle gawkiness she's slid into her movements, evocative of someone still figuring out how to be in a body as-yet new to her. And the thing is that he remembers when she moved in roughly that manner and it wasn't affected. He remembers the shy and slightly awkward sixteen-year-old girl who wouldn't meet his eyes the first few times he looked at her at all.

And of course he never looked at her like _this,_ then. Never would have. It wouldn't even have been about propriety. He just _wouldn't._

Fun in a very fucked up way to think back and do so now.

“But you never forget.” Small voice, slightly quivering. Quivering along with her plump lower lip. It's unusually shiny, unusually pink. She might be wearing gloss. “You always remember. You always get me somethin’ nice.”

He lifts a hand and beckons loosely. “C’mere, baby girl.”

She comes to him, still appearing on the verge of tears, and when he takes her by the hand and tugs her sideways into his lap she wipes the back of her hand under her nose, hiccuping softly. And _fuck,_ it's so difficult to keep from busting out laughing as he cups her cheek and presses a kiss to her temple, and tries with everything in him not to roll the increasingly straining bulge in his pants up against the taut seam of those shorts.

“Course I didn't forget, baby.” He abruptly digs his fingers into her belly and her muscles jump and twitch as she squeals a giggle, hooking an arm around his neck. “How could I ever forget that?” His hand stops, curled against her bare side, and he kisses her temple again - lingers closer to her ear, his voice softer. “Best day of my goddamn life.”

“Daddy,” she murmurs, and when she turns in his lap and faces him, her expression is mildly reproachful. Though a smile is plucking at the corners of her mouth and he can tell it wants to be a big one. “You shouldn't tease me like that. It's mean.”

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're just so damn cute. Can't help myself.” He settles a hand high on the top of her thigh, thumb swiping across her skin and dipping just a little into the inside slope. Could be chaste. Could be nothing at all. “Won't do it again.”

She sighs, and then she takes the reins off the smile and it breaks across her face, happy and as big as he guessed it would be, and like always happens at least at one point when they do this, he forgets the game and the role and simply _looks_ at her, and it’s like something in him is bubbling up and overflowing, so heavy it's painful and so sweet he never wants it to stop.

“It's okay, Daddy.” She plants a firm kiss on his cheek and covers his hand with hers. “But that means you got me somethin’, right?”

“Not exactly.” When confusion starts to chip away at her smile, he doesn't make her wait. “Figured I'd ask you what _you_ want, baby. Let you pick.”

“Oh… Daddy.” Surprise holding those pretty, glossy lips apart, the smile no longer fading but now a bit wondering, uncertain. She bites her lip and drops her gaze to their hands, stroking her fingers over the backs of his. “I-I dunno.”

He shifts her, and if he was trying to find a more comfortable position it's utterly impossible; her ass only settles more fully against him, and when she squirms and the crotch of her shorts grinds against his aching dick he wrestles back a shudder. She can feel him. She knows _precisely_ what she's doing. “You can have anythin’ you want. You just tell me what it is.”

“Anythin’?” Suddenly her smile is hesitant but no longer uncertain, her eyes lifting to meet his and then down again, the tip of her tongue flicking against her top lip. “Promise?”

“Name it, sweetheart.”

“Well…” She's quiet a moment, head lowered and her fingers twirling the end of one pigtail, her brows drawn together in deep and serious thought. “Daddy, you said…” She swallows and takes a breath, seems to be gathering her courage. Every swell of her ribcage and he half expects those hard little nipples to poke right through the fabric trapping them. “When you play with me, you've said… You're gonna fuck me. When I'm ready. Well… That's what I want.”

“Oh.” He leans back, hand still resting on her thigh, and looks at her with his own slight frown, as if this wasn't what he expected and he's frankly not sure about it. “That really what you want, baby?”

“Yeah.” More decisive now, and she props herself up on one leg to turn in his lap, straddling him with her crotch lined up perfectly against his fly and rocking as if she doesn't mean to be doing any of this, as if she's asking for a goddamn _pony_ or something, her hands braced on his chest and her mouth pulled into a line which telegraphs clearly that she's not about to accept a _no._ “You said when I was ready.”

His hands find her thighs again, and when he glances down he sees the lighter blue between her legs gone darker. A hint of glistening wet on her skin. He manages to keep his voice steady, manages to keep his hands where they are, manages to keep back the thick groan struggling to escape his chest. “You think you're ready for that?”

She nods emphatically. “It's my birthday. I'm older now.” She flashes a smile and there's nothing _remotely_ innocent in it. “I'm a big girl.”

“I guess you are.”

He raises one hand from her thigh and cups her face, glides his fingertips down her cheek and jaw to her neck. She tips her head back, eyes half closed, and lets out a soft pleased _mmm_ as he stops at the small swell of her tit, passing his thumb around her nipple in an unhurried circle before he gives it a few quick, grazing swipes. Her breath catches and she arches forward, whispers a rough _Daddy._

“You know I just wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. That's all I want.”

She nods loosely, all of her loosening with it, her fingers working restlessly over his chest. “You always do.”

“Yeah, I do.” He raises his other hand and traces the seam of her lips with his fingertips, pulling in a pleased breath as she opens in response to his gentle nudge and sucks two of them onto her tongue. “But that's why I'm still not sure. I don't wanna hurt you. I don't wanna hurt my angel.”

She makes a low hum of protest, tugging at his shirt as she tongues his fingers free of her lips. “You said I would stretch. You said you'd fit. I know you can, Daddy. I _know_ it.” She leans in, pushing her tit more fully into his hand, all wide and deeply earnest. “Lemme try. I want you so _bad,_ Daddy. I think about it all the time.”

“Oh, I think about you too, baby.” He gives her a firmer squeeze, glitter horn and mane rough against the pads of his fingers. The fucking horse’s happy grin is beginning to look slyly knowing. “I told you, I can't wait to take your tight pussy. Make it all mine.” He rocks upward, pressing the bulge of his cock against her mound, gratification burning through him when she suppresses a moan. “Take that sweet little cherry.”

“What-What does _cherry_ mean, Daddy?”

“Means I'm the first one.” He draws her down and in and kisses her brow, slow. Nothing but chaste parental affection even as he kneads her tit. “First one in your pussy, ever.”

She giggles again and squirms in his lap, uneven pressure on his cock that makes the edges of his vision pulse. “There isn't really a _cherry_ in me, is there, Daddy?”

He echoes the laugh, dragging it into a warm rumble, and curls a fist lightly around one of her pigtails, smoothing its strands over her shoulder. She's wickedly innocent, a predator in this hunt - if anything more than he is - and so _adorable_ he can hardly stand it. “No, baby. There ain't no real cherry.”

“‘cause that'd be weird.” She tilts her head as he continues to play with the fine gold filaments of her hair, smile dancing in her eyes. “I mean it, Daddy. It's what I want. It's _all_ I want. My pussy…” Her voice has been getting huskier with every word and now she trails off, slips a hand between them and presses down on the dark spot, a shudder rippling through her. “It's so _hot._ It wants your cock so much, Daddy, I swear.”

“I believe you, sweetheart.” Somehow his voice remains steady as his eyes track her fingers, the hint of a circle in which they're starting to move. “I wanna give it to you. There's just gonna have to be some stuff we do, alright?”

She gasps, her eyes flying open and wide and a sharp whimper escaping her as she presses harder. Flush above her neckline now, seeping up her neck toward her face. “What? Tell me, Daddy.”

“Gotta make sure you're stretched out. Make sure you can take me and it won't hurt.”

She nods again, the column of her throat working as she gulps. “What else?”

“You gotta be all nice and wet for me.” He manages a mostly composed smile. Inside, every cells is shrieking for him to bury himself in her cunt so hard and fast she screams. _Little girl._ Kind of hard to pretend she's so little at that point, when she's howling like a she-wolf in heat. “It's gonna be fun, baby. You're gonna feel so good.”

“Oh, _Daddy._ You mean it? You're gonna put your cock in my pussy?” Her own smile is huge and hugely delighted, her eyes practically glowing. She's rubbing herself through her cutoffs in a quick, unbroken rhythm that he doubts she's even giving much thought to, and he can't rip his gaze away.

“Yeah, sweet girl. I am.”

She knocks the last word out of him as she lunges forward and wraps her arms around his neck in a bear hug, proclaiming _I LOVE you, Daddy_ , and once more he's fighting to keep from cracking up as he takes her by the shoulders and pushes her back enough to meet her eyes - sparkling above her rosy cheeks. “Gotta do one more thing, though, baby.”

Her brows draw together. “What?”

“Said it before.” He takes her chin between his forefinger and thumb in a careful, tender grip, holds her focus. “You can't tell _anyone_ about this. Alright? The other stuff, that’d be a big problem, but this…” He shakes his head, every word weighed down with the seriousness of what he's telling her. “This would be the biggest. So it's really our secret. Gotta stay that way, no matter what.”

“I won't tell anyone, Daddy,” she whispers, reaches up and covers his hand on her tit and tightens. “Cross my heart.”

Which is pounding. Pumping hot and heavy all through her, the need that's wetting her mouth and eyes and that he knows is flooding into her cunt.

“Good girl.”

He kisses her brow again, and then he takes a second to simply _feel_ her against him, how solid and humming and _alive_ she is, a compact miracle in his arms - which he can never forget no matter how many masks they wear. Chest expanding to match his breath for breath, and pulse points running together. Idle late afternoon and his _little girl_ in his lap, air rushing shallowly in and out of her lungs as she touches herself.

For that second he can't even move, branching nerves incandescent and thrumming beneath her.

Until he does.

“I love you, baby.” He lowers his hand and covers hers between her thighs, threads their fingers and transfers her from herself to him, cupping her palm over his infuriatingly confined length. She watches this entranced, the tip of her tongue pressed against her top lip, squeezing him reflexively when she has him.

“ _Shit,_ honey…” Brief flash of bared teeth, not quite a smile. “You feel that? Feel what you did to your daddy. You really want that in your pretty pussy?

“Yeah, Daddy,” she murmurs, licks her lips and rolls her whole body against his in a smooth, obscene wave. “It's so _big_ …”

“Not too big for you?”

“Toldja.” She breaks into another sunny smile, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “I'm a big girl now.”

 _Shit._ “That's right.” His breath stutters as he rocks again into her hand, just short of a jerky, humping rhythm. “You're my big girl. And you're gonna take my cock. All of it. Your daddy’s gonna help you, baby.”

She sighs and leans forward, pressing her lips to his cheek and his jaw and the corner of his mouth, and each time lingering for a longer stretch. She's soft and fragrant with something bright and clean and floral, and beneath that is the sharp, heady scent of her cunt. “You're so nice, Daddy. Ohh, can we-” Her own hips roll, her mound canted forward and down as she searches for additional pressure to apply to her throbbing clit. “Can we do it now? Will you teach me?”

“Yeah, we can do it now.” As if he would make her wait.

It's her _birthday,_ after all.

“What should I do?”

He returns his hand to the tight space between them, this time curving it awkwardly against her. She lifts and he slides his fingers beneath her, trapped between her crotch and his thigh, and presses up against her equally trapped lips. Her breath catches and her hand tightens, eyes half closed as he grinds the heel of his palm against her mound.

“Gotta see how wet you are. Y’are, ain't you?” Another press, and the corner of his mouth curls. “I can feel.”

She nods. “Daddy, I think…” She curls inward and looks down, affecting surprise at the glimpse of the wet spot on the crotch of her shorts. “Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry. I made a mess.”

“Aw, baby, don't be sorry.” His whole hand, just about levering her off his thigh, and her hips twitch as she moans. “Just means you want it that bad. Told you before, it's a good thing.” He plucks at the back of her waistband with his free hand. “Maybe you should just take ‘em off. They're comin’ off anyway, right?”

“Yeah. Right.” She raises her head and visibly brightens at this fact, wriggles herself out of his lap and stands to unbutton her fly. He leans back and watches her, palms himself lazily as she starts to slide those intentionally-unintentionally slutty little shorts down her hips, revealing-

Not familiar simple white cotton. His hand freezes on his dick as his eyes widen.

Not white cotton. It's still girlish, still decidedly not _adult_ , but if the rest of her wardrobe was chosen with the aesthetic of _accidental slut_ in mind, these weren’t chosen along quite the same lines. Soft pink lace and not very much of it, small darker rose-hued bow at the front of the waistband. It's _pretty,_ and pretty in an almost innocent way. Exactly, he presumes, the kind of thing a little girl might want when she's not so little and wants something more _grown-up_. Not even with the explicit thought of anyone else seeing it. Simply because this is what grown-up women wear.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, and she steps out of her shorts and lifts her eyes to his with a shy smile curving her lips.

“You like it, Daddy?”

“I…” It's not even that big a thing. In this, it’s just another costume piece. Except somehow it's not _just_ anything. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

“I kinda got it for myself.” Her smile widens, pleased. “I just… I wanted somethin’ pretty.”

“It's so pretty, baby.” The ability to move has come roaring back and he gives himself a firmer squeeze, swallows a groan. “God, seems like a shame for you to take it off.”

“Maybe I don't have to. Not right away.” She hesitates, once more biting at the corner of her thumb, then grasps the hem of her tee and pulls it over her head, drops it to join her shorts. She never wears a bra when they're playing like this and she's not wearing one now; she's standing there in front of him with that lovely band of lace hugging her hips, her little tits bare, her head high and a teasing smile dancing around the edges of her mouth, sparkling in her eyes.

 _Sweet baby girl_ and she's also a force of fucking _nature._

“You wanna see how wet I am, Daddy?”

“Yeah.” He swallows, releases a tight breath. “Yeah, show me.”

She grins and takes a step back, glances behind her to make sure it's there - the coffee table, which fortunately isn't at all of flimsy construction. He wouldn't want to put its sturdiness to any serious test, but she's light and she sinks down onto it with exquisite carelessness, her legs spread. “Here, Daddy,” she murmurs, sounding just a touch shy again, hooking her fingers under the elastic of one inner leg and stretching it aside to reveal the deep slick pink of her pussy. It's glistening fit to make his mouth water, and she looks down to watch herself as she noses two fingers between her lips and presses them open.

He doesn't try to hold back the groan and pushes upright, leans forward. He's not yet working his fly open, but he’s groping in that direction. “Sweet girl, that's even prettier. Look at you.” And she is, gaze still directed downward, taking a slow breath as she ghosts a thumb over her swollen clit.

“You play with yourself today?”

She shakes her head. “Wanted to wait for you, Daddy.” Shaky sigh as she makes another pass. “It's better when it's you.”

“Aw, sweetheart. But how’re you gonna get better if you don't practice?”

She giggles. “ _Daddy…_ ”

“You can do it now, then. I'll do it with you.” Finally - _finally_ \- he's fumbling his button open and his zipper down, leaning back again to give himself easier access. She's watching, rapt with her thumb skimming over her clit, as he snakes his fingers in and draws himself out, twitching when he takes himself by the base and holds it for her to see.

“Ohh…” Almost the beginning of a word. It doesn't quite make it that far. Her thumb is moving quicker as tiny shudders slide through her, pushing the breath out between her parted lips.

He tightens his grip, gives himself a single, torturously slow stroke. “You like seein’ it, baby?”

“I like it so much,” she whispers. “Daddy… Daddy, I can't _wait_ for you to put it in me…”

“Just be patient. Gotta get you ready.” Another stroke, not as slow, and a drop of precome wells and starts to run down the edge of his hand. “You're doin’ so good, little girl. Christ… Why don't you put your finger in.”

“In my pussy?”

“Yeah. Just one for now. Go on, do it for your daddy.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Her teeth close on her lip as she releases the spread V into which she's arranged her hand, curves her middle finger and nudges it in. She stiffens, gasps, and her head drops back as she slides deeper, forcing a low moan out of her taut throat.

He moans with her, jerking his cock in a steady, easy rhythm - and he can tell he'll have to back off soon but for now it's so fucking _sweet_. “That feel good?”

“Uh-huh.” She withdraws her hand and pushes in again, her high breathy _mmm_ not entirely drowning out the squelch. “But it's not…” She laughs shakily. “Daddy, it's not _you._ ”

“You want it to be me?” He somehow shoves himself upright and leans once more, extending his other hand and running his fingertips up the inside of her thigh. Teasing -  but it's not like he has to, and it's not like he can bear to for much longer. “Lemme in, then, angel. There you go.”

For the briefest of moments she's puzzled; then she lets out a soft cry as he presses his finger in alongside hers, gritting his teeth when he feels her flex around him. A sound lost between a groan and a laugh escapes him and he loosens his grip on his cock - no fucking _way_ is he ending this before it's truly begun. “See? There's room for both of us.” Deeper, coaxing hers with him, and she whines, her pink tongue flicking into view. “You're still so tight, though. Try another one.”

She bites her lip and gives him a nod, a shaky bob of her head, and hesitantly works a second finger in and against his. Her gasp is sharp, strained, and he releases his cock and touches the edge of her chin, fingertips sticky with precome.

“Y’alright, baby?” Because maybe acting and maybe not, but he needs to be sure.

And he meant what he said. _Daddy doesn't want to hurt his precious little girl._

Not too much.

She nods again, a nearly constant string of tiny whimpers escaping her where her teeth have trapped her lower lip. “It's just… Oh, Daddy, I feel it, I'm stretchin’.” She slides her fingers in, slick against his, withdraws and sighs happily. “You're gonna fit in me, Daddy. You're gonna fit _perfect_.”

“I know, honey.” His cock is unattended-to, throbbing by way of lodging its protest, but he doesn't remove his fingers from her face, trails them up to her lips and nudges between them. “Taste me. Taste how much your daddy wants you.”

She parts her lips instantly, _eagerly_ , sucks in his fore and middle fingers and laves them with the flat of her tongue, and as she does he starts to move his finger in time with her two, guiding her into a rhythm that pushes breathless little moans out of her and seems to tug her legs farther apart with every gentle, stuttering thrust. Fucking her mouth and fucking her pussy, watching himself with his entire nervous system a coiled ball of hot need low in his belly, and he doesn't even _want_ to touch his cock now if it means losing this.

“God, honey, you're so pretty.” Not thinking about what he's saying. He doesn't have the bloodflow to spare for higher level processing. To praise her is pure instinct. “Look at you, look at how fuckin’ _wet_ you are…” Because she is, her juices slurping out of her and running warm and semi-translucent down his knuckles like liquid moonlight in the evening sun, and she glances down, eyes wide, before he pushes deep with both hands and carefully tips her head back. Like this, her spine is curved into an arch, her tits standing out small and plump on her chest, delicate pink lace tight against one inner thigh.

“Just as pretty when you're suckin’ my cock, you sweet girl.” He laughs, curls his fingers against her tongue, and she moans thickly. The muscles of her thighs are starting to quiver, tense, and he knows she's close, and the right words could tip her over the edge. And he's not even thinking about the words. They're simply flowing, like they did the first day she called him _Daddy_. “You like this? Like playin’ like this?” Nod, another trembling moan. “You like bein’ a cute little slut for your daddy?”

She lets out a loud, whimpering _mmm_ and her eyes snap wide open, staring at the stripe of orange setting sun on the ceiling. He laughs again. That word. That word always gets her, gets her right in the _cunt,_ and it's a joy to keep it for just the right time, roll it out when it's sure to hit her hardest.

“Yeah, that's what you are. Slutty little baby, just for me. You wanna come?”

This time her _mmm_ sounds nearly distressed, and her arm is shaking as she braces herself up, desperately trying not to tumble backward, eyes squeezed shut as she pumps her fingers in and out of her pussy in perfect time with his. The noise twists into an _mmhm,_ and he grins and crooks his finger against the upper wall of her cunt, slowly beckoning. _C’mon._

“Think you're ready for your daddy to fuck you? Pussy all ready for me?”

She nods so hard she almost dislodges his fingers, and then he goes ahead and allows them to slide free, withdrawing from between her legs at the same moment with a deliciously wet sound. She drags in a hiccuping gasp and shifts awkwardly forward, wobbling, fingers soaked in her juices and a line of drool dangling from her chin as she gazes at him with dazed eyes.

He catches that gaze and holds it as he sits back on the couch, pushes his pants down his thighs and curls a hand around the base of his cock - dark and glistening and _painfully_ hard - and dips his chin down at it. “Come’n get it, baby. Come get your birthday present.”

She scrambles, and it's adorable. There's no pretense in her eagerness, nothing affected or acted, her eyes so big and bright and her cheeks and nipples flushed, both sets of lips fat and swollen, and she doesn't even bother to strip off her panties as she clambers onto the couch and swings a leg across his lap to straddle him.

She braces both hands on his shoulders and stares down at him, still beyond eager but now also slightly uncertain, maybe even apprehensive. “What do I do, Daddy?”

He leans up and kisses the underside of her chin, base of her throat, and she sighs and loosens as he settles one hand on her hip and maneuvers the other between them. Somehow he can still do that. Somehow he has the dexterity, the means of navigating time and space through the dense pounding in his head. “You're doin’ perfect, baby. Here, lift up a little.” He cups her thigh and she rises obligingly - as if she needed _any_ direction, as if she ever fucking has - and he grips his cock again and glides the tip along the dripping lips of her pussy. She sucks in a breath and her eyes somehow widen even more, mouth open in an expression locked between surprise and needy pleasure.

“Daddy, that's-”

“Yeah, baby girl. You feel me? You ready for it?”

She nods firmly, hands tight over his collarbones, and somehow he scrounges together the last shreds of his self-control.

“You ask me for it.”

She blinks, confused. Possibly she's having as hard a time with processing as he is. “Daddy…?”

“Ask me to fuck you.” He finds her clit with the head of his cock - knows it when her eyelids flutter - and circles her. “Ask Daddy to fuck your wet little pussy. Ask me nice.”

“I-” She swallows, licking her lips and appearing to make an effort to pull herself together. Flushed deeper, too, and not meeting his eyes. Bashful. “Please fuck me, Daddy.”

“Fuck you where?”

“Please fuck me in my…” Another gulp. She may not even be acting any longer. “In my _wet little pussy._ Please, Daddy. I _need_ it.”

“Oh, I know you do.” He hooks his free hand around the back of her neck and pulls her closer, lays his mouth lightly over hers. Brief. As usual, might be utterly chaste if not for _everything fucking else_. “You're such a good girl, sweetheart. C’mon.” Lined up like he can do in his fucking sleep, nosing her labia gently aside, watching her face every second. “Just lower down. Just like sittin’. It's easy.”

It is, like always: she eases herself down onto him in a smooth slide, breath catching as he enters her - his catching with hers, his gaze locked onto every tense and twist of her features, rapt as something like _revelation_ washes over her.

And it's another one of those moments where it all falls away, the masks and the game and the world they've spun around themselves, and it's just her and him, and he's watching her like the first time this happened, how he was utterly stunned by it and by her and by the beautifully simple way their bodies fit.

The way _they_ fit.

“Oh, _Daddy,_ ” she whispers, and falls silent, her breath ragged as she comes to rest in his lap and her head drops back between her shoulders. The last of the sun is disappearing behind the wall and it's dusk in the room, no lights on, but he can see her clearly as if she was bathed in light, and he can't take his fucking eyes off her.

Can barely even feel himself anymore.

“Sweetheart.” _Beth._ He's weakened, shaky in the role, and that's perfectly fine. “Jesus _Christ,_ baby… Ah, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yeah.” She shifts, stiffens, whines softly. “Daddy, it's so…”

“Does it hurt, angel?”

She shakes her head. “It's… _Oh,_ Daddy, you feel so _big_ in me…”

“Yeah, but we fit.” He smooths her hair back from her face and thinks _holy fucking shit I love you girl._ “Like I said we would.”

A giggle slips out of her, out through her wide smile, and it's the sweetest music he can imagine. “You were right, Daddy. You always are.” Another rocking movement and she shudders, moans. “What do I do now?”

He could fuck her hard. He was thinking he might, thinking he might grip her by the hips and go as fast and as rough as he can manage from this position. But it doesn't feel like that now. Doesn't feel like it _fits._ He came home tired, night is falling outside, and in here she's soft and warm and small in his lap, so hot and tight around his cock as she flexes her muscles, and he circles his arms around her and pulls her in against his chest, her head nestling against his shoulder.

“Just like this, honey.” Slow roll of his hips and she shudders again, hums. “Move with me. Told you, it's easy.”

As before, it is, and she does. Clumsy, as if she really has never done it before, but picking up his rhythm and matching it, mouth open against the base of his throat as quiet _aah-aah_ sounds slip out between her wet lips, palms flat on his chest as she works her body in a loose wave. And maybe it's not hard or fast or rough, but it's fucking _perfect,_ his aching cock soothed by his sweet little daughter’s pussy, and even _thinking_ that comes perilously close to tipping him over the edge.

“You're so good,” he breathes, one hand buried in her hair, the other dropping to cup her ass and coax her into more speed. “Little girl, oh, you're so fuckin’ _perfect_ , that slutty pussy’s all mine…” Babbling, but it must be the right kind of babble, because every word ripples through her and draws tighter moans from low in her throat, mouthing _Yes, Daddy_ against his jaw.

_Oh, Daddy, yes._

When she changes the angle, rubbing her pubic bone more directly against him, he alters to accommodate her, holds her tighter as he fucks up into her, whispering that she's so sweet and he loves her, loves his baby girl, she's the best thing he ever did and he'll do _anything_ for her, all he wants is to make her feel good - and he is, every muscle in her winding itself tighter and tighter as she grinds against him and sends herself higher, groaning _oh my God, Daddy, it's so_ good…

“You wanna come now?” She might nod. Doesn't matter. He never needed an answer. He smiles against her temple, licks at the edge of her ear. “Sweet angel, yeah, you come for me. Come for Daddy, _c’mon…_ ”

Like she needs him to say it - but maybe she does, maybe it's the last thing she needs, because she stiffens one final time and then her climax unfurls from her core like a flower, a broken sob and a shudder that vibrates from the base of her spine all the way up to her frantically beating heart, and her pussy tenses and loosens and tenses around his cock like she's trying to drag him with her.

And it's all he can do to hold on.

 _Oh, girl,_ he's gasping, _oh holy shit, little girl_ and then she's gripping him by the shirt and hissing into his ear as she bounces in his lap, still shaking.

_Come in me, Daddy. I want it in my pussy, Daddy, give it to me, give me your come-_

He couldn't process before. No fucking way can he now. He clenches his teeth, his whole body a tight fist, and bucks up against her, grating something even he doesn't understand as he hurls himself into a convulsion and pulses hot and thick into her, her cry muffled against his neck and his own echoing off the shadowy ceiling.

And nothing for a while. Heavy breathing, slower and slower. Quivering. Drifting back down together, through a haze of dimness where all definitions dissolve into shades of welcoming gray.

~

“Happy birthday.”

She breathes a laugh and raises her head from his chest, her eyes glittering in what little light there is. “Ain't really my birthday.”

“I don't know when your birthday is.”

He frames her face with his trembling hands, gazing at her. Girl. Woman. He doesn't know anymore, if there was ever a distinction to be made. He doesn't know how long they've been here, and he doesn't know exactly where they are now in this odd liminal space between fantasy and everything else. There are so many things he doesn't know. What he does know is that she's hopelessly beautiful like this: glowing with sex, sweat a drying sheen on her skin and her hair a tangled mess poorly confined into unruly pigtails, her lips plump and her eyes deep and clear.

What he does know is that he loves her.

“Does it matter?” she asks, low, and he shakes his head without hesitation. It doesn't. He doesn't know when his is either. Not anymore. He honestly isn't sure he ever did.

“So could be today.” He smiles faintly, traces the seam of her lips with a fingertip. “Happy birthday.”

She catches his wrist, curls her cool little fingers around it and closes her lips around his finger, and he sighs and sags backward, watching her with half-lidded eyes.

“Baby girl.”

She nods and releases his fingertip, returns his smile, and when she shifts in his lap he realizes that he's still inside her, softening, and the skin where they meet is sticky with her juices and his come, and then he knows what they've done and all he can do is gaze at her and try to remember how to breathe.

They've slipped up before, since condoms became too unreliable to use. He hasn't pulled out in time, or hasn't pulled out at all. They've had to cross some fingers, but it's been okay.

But this feels different.

He blinks. “Beth…”

“What?” She cocks her head, tugging on the remains of one pigtail, and he can't make out her face clearly enough to know whether she knows what he just seized on or whether she's still as delightfully oblivious as he was. If she ever _was_ oblivious, and honestly…

“Did you…”

Soft laugh. “Daryl, what?”

“You said.” He drops a hand between them, fingers skating over the pleasant roughness of stretched lace, and feels that slickness, its warmth. What she asked for. What he gave her. “You… You said, is all.”

“Oh.”

The smile fades and she merely looks at him, biting at her thumbnail, and if there's anxiety in her eyes he can't make it out. She doesn't say anything. Neither does he. The silence is dense - but not uncomfortable. Not tense. It's thoughtful. He can be in it with her, and he doesn't want to escape.

This started as a game. But it’s not really a game. It's _never_ been a game, not in this iteration or any other, and nothing they've ever done in any role they've ever taken has been without consequence. If he was foolish enough to doubt that, all he needed to prove it to himself was the experience of sitting on the floor and holding her as panic wracked her body like a seizure, over a green sour apple lollypop that he innocently brought home for his _little girl._

They're playing, but in a way they've always been playing with fire.

It’s his little girl’s birthday, and he gave her what she wanted.

“Is it okay?” she whispers finally, and in those three words he hears hundreds. This, yes. Is _this_ okay. What she asked for - probably without being fully aware of it - and what he gave her, but not only that.

Is this okay, but also is everything that comes _after_ this okay. Is every possible outcome of this and any other moment okay. Is what this means okay. Is what they _are_ okay. They haven't yet gone even halfway into what this could be, so is that okay, is it okay to go further, is it okay to not stop now, is it okay to be _more._

_Is it okay?_

“Yeah.” Also a whisper. But it sounds very loud in the dark, and a smile slips in between the vowels. “Yeah. It's okay.”

Her own smile, small and warm, and she's lowering herself again, settling against his chest, nuzzling at the base of his throat.

Because it's okay, and it's easy.

“I love you, Daddy.” The words travel out on a happy sigh, and he combs his fingers into her hair and breathes her in, the wonderful weight of her in the cradle his body is making - and that word, and how fucked up this is and how that was and continues to be perfectly fine.

How the world they're making keeps getting bigger.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers. If he's not careful, he could sink into those words like a bed and fall asleep. And maybe that's not even such a bad idea. There's no reason to move. Everything they need is right here. “Love you so much.”

_Love you, baby girl. Sweetheart, honey, angel, princess. Love you._

_Love you, Beth._


End file.
